WHO: Zeb and Doom WHAT: Another meeting that doesn't end so well for Zeb WHERE: A loft Doom is renting in the city. WHEN: Wednesday morning
Zeb met early with Victor, arriving at his rented loft in the city in time for breakfast. Doom was already up and dressed, looking more like a US President than a manic, masked dictator. He offered the purple boy coffee and a bagel while he finished replying to an email on his Blackberry. When he put the phone down he looked straight at Zeb.
"Mr. Killgrave, I'm sure you are anxious to hear of my purpose for calling you here."
"I have many uses," Zeb said, smiling, "All revolving around one talent."
"It is important to me that Latveria be able to expand its borders without the meddling interference of the United States. France and Russia can be paid off and England will do whatever brother Obama tells them. I would like to ensure that the Senate passes my bill. The neighboring countries have resources that could be very beneficial to allies of mine. And perhaps you too?"
Money? Power? Zeb was waiting to be promised the world for his talents. "And you need me then to convince them?"
"I'm glad I don't have to spell it out for you."
"One thing," Zeb said. "Croatia is untouched. I do not want war near my mother's home."
"You see, Mr. Killgrave, you're not really in the position to make demands as I wasn't going to pay you in the first place." He cut Zeb off before he could interject. "You are useful but I frankly don't trust you."
One of Doom's men had walked up behind Zeb. With a nod from Doom he injected Zeb quickly in the neck. The boy fell back off his chair. Victor got up, laughing as Zeb was picked up to be hauled away. "I'm afraid I only want you for your body, Mr. Killgrave."